"Don't you think," said the pretty voice, still not angry--and surely anger would have been easier to meet than this--"that before doing anything so--so radical as that, you might wait a little while, believing that my father would--do what is right?"
The lame doctor brought his eyes back to her and said, slowly: "You see, I've been worried by the feeling--that I've waited too long already."
"Too long for what? That's just what I mean. What do you think could possibly happen?"
"For one thing, Miss Heth," he said, with a faint dry smile, "the building might fall down some day."
Color came into Cally's cheek. Her feeling now was that she had made advances, spontaneous and friendly, and been smartly rebuffed. What cared he for the troubles of the Heths?...
"You really think my father would risk the lives of his employees, just to make a little more money for himself?"
He answered, almost brusquely: "I don't mean to judge your father. People take their views of life from the atmosphere in which they live. You appreciate that. I, of course, concede your father's point of view. I fully understand it. I--wish it were possible for you to do as much for mine."
She looked at him fixedly a moment, said, "I'm sorry you think this necessary," and turned away to the door. But once again his voice arrested her.
"Miss Heth!... You feel an interest in the Settlement. You've felt a wish to help in the work--to lend a hand in some way to those less fortunate than yourself. You--you haven't as yet decided just what you want to do...."
She had paused at the door, half-turning; their eyes met once more. And now the whole look of the strange young man seemed to change, and he said with sudden gentleness: